


The Redheaded Candidate

by amiphobic



Category: Pitch Perfect (2012)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 10:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amiphobic/pseuds/amiphobic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you-“<br/>“That’s all good and well, JFK,” Beca rolls her eyes. “But I’m asking what Chloe Beale can do for me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Redheaded Candidate

**Author's Note:**

> Highschool AU
> 
> Written as encouragement to vote in the [Afterellen poll](http://www.afterellen.com/vote-now-2013ultimate-femslash-madness-tourney-elite-eight/08/2013/2/)
> 
> ;) You should seriously think about voting for Beca/Chloe. This round ends August 6th.

“Vote for Chloe Beale!”

Some blonde Beca vaguely recognizes from her grade practically shoves a cookie into her hand enthusiastically. It’s a peanut butter and M&M cookie with special purple frosting forming the surname Beale.

“So I should vote for her because you’ve given me a cookie?”

The blonde glares at her and she returns the favor with ease (it happens to be her default expression). Beca finally identifies the blonde as one of the stuck-up popular girls – the Bubbleheads, as she calls them.

“No, you should vote for her because she’s the best candidate this year,” the blonde sniffs, her tone clipped and serious.

“Well, what can she do for me?” Beca drawls, crossing her arms as other students push past her in the surging momentum of the after-school rush home.

Blondie raises an eyebrow, unimpressed, and responds, “Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you-“

“That’s all good and well, JFK,” Beca rolls her eyes. “But I’m asking what Chloe Beale can do for me, not what the school can do for me.”

“I, for one, happen to take this election seriously,” Blondie hisses. “And I’m not going to waste any more of my time talking to a brick wall.”

And yes, Beca does get a twinge of amusement watching her flit away angrily. But also yes, her decision to not vote for anyone for student council president is unaltered.

* * *

The next day just at lunch, Beca’s strolling down the hallway of the administration building when she sees a ballot-box set up on one of the nearby long wooden tables in the main lobby. Behind the table all of the student council president and vice-president candidates sit comfortably (or uncomfortably, Beca decides, eyeing the hard seats) as they hand out pins and small pieces of candy.

“Beca!”

A redheaded girl, whom Beca manages to identify as Chloe Beale, one of the most popular and faux-perfect girls in her grade, waves at the brunette frantically. She tries to ignore the girl, really she does, but the crowd movement is really not on her side and she ends up walking near the candidate table.

“Did you vote yet?”

“Not for you,” Beca retorts, the words literally falling out of her mouth without proper processing.

Chloe’s reaction – a clear flinch and hurt blue eyes – makes Beca regret her words instantly, but not enough to retract the flippant statement. The person next to Chloe, a blonde boy reaches over and places a ballot in front of Beca.

“Today’s election is for treasurer and secretary,” he informs her, offering a pen expectantly.

“Sorry, I can’t read,” Beca smirks as she backs away, both hands in the air like _what can you do?_

He frowns at her disapprovingly, but she doesn’t give a fuck. The redheaded presidency candidate on the other hand is still looking at the ground, her mouth quirking to the side, and despite it all, Beca has to force herself to keep walking.

* * *

“Prom is especially important this year, guys!”

Beca focuses in on the ceiling and blinding gym lights. Maybe if she passes out from over-exposure to light, she’ll get to skip this ridiculous assembly. This is only the first of two, she knows, but that’s two too many in her books.

“As student council president I would help make this year’s prom the best ever!”

The current speaker, Alice Bronson, is the kind of girl that speaks all her sentences like they end in exclamation marks! And it gets tiring really quickly to listen to her! Exclamation marks, when speaking, are to be used sparingly, if at all, Beca maintains!

Alice giggles and flips her perfect hair back, and dazzles the student body with a dazzling smile. With that, she skips back to sit with her friends.

Next is Tom Kent, a good-looking jock. He shoves his hands in his pockets and swaggers to the front with a cocky grin. Tapping the microphone, he withdraws a plastic bag from his pocket with his free hand. Revealing a sandwich, he says, “The school is like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

A few girls in the audience titter at his simile, which is obviously the effect he’s hoped to cause.

“The school administration is the peanut butter, sticky but tasty, and great on its own, but without the student council, the jelly, it’s kind of bland. But together,” he pauses to chomp down on a chunk of the bread, “Together, they’re delicious! And if you vote for me, I promise I’ll be the most badass jelly ever!”

“Really?” Beca hisses to her only friend, Stacie. “That was his speech?”

“Well, when you look that good,” Stacie bites her lip and eyes him predatorily. Great, now her friend is distracted by His Jock-ness.

“Why are we friends again?”

Stacie’s no doubt hilarious answer is cut off by the next speaker, the redheaded candidate.

“Hey guys,” Chloe gives a shy wave at her friends.

“Hm,” Stacie hums quietly. “She’s not half bad either.”

“Keep your pants on,” Beca snarks, her eyes never leaving Chloe’s direction.

“Thank you, Tom, for offering absolutely no real substantial reason as to why the student body should vote for you,” Chloe gives a sarcastic smile at his retreating form.

“Damn, kitty got claws,” Stacie swipes the air in front of her. Beca slaps her hand away and shushes her; she’s actually kind of, maybe, perhaps a tiny bit interested in what the ginger has to say.

“Barden High hasn’t had a female student council president since 1987, and it shows,” Chloe starts, detaching the microphone from the stand, and swings the cord around the metal pole. “The administration implements and upholds sexist policies, and offers very little support to its female students.”

The principal of Barden High is clearly uncomfortable with this line of reasoning, but doesn’t move to stop her, and merely pulls out his phone, quickly texting. Beca raises an eye, intrigued.

“Dress codes are directed almost exclusively at female students: no spaghetti straps, no super short shorts, no low cut tops, and so on. Boys are told to pull up their sagging pants, but are never subjected to, ‘Young man, please go and change into a more appropriate pair of pants.’”

The students are murmuring to one another, as the principal stows his phone away and rises from his seat in the back to approach Chloe.

Perhaps sensing her time limit now (on how far the principal is), Chloe begins to talk more rapidly, “Furthermore, girls who are harassed by boys are told to try and mediate the situation with the offender in question. Forcing the victims of sexual harassment to ask their assaulter questions like, ‘Hey, I really didn’t appreciate it when you slapped my ass in the hall-‘”

“We seem to have run out of time,” the principal attempts to wrestle the microphone out of Chloe’s iron-tight grip. “Thank you everyone! Fifth period resumes in two minutes, so head to class!”

Interestingly, Chloe’s friends and supporters do as he says, and slowly but surely, the students begin to pick up their belongings and file out of gym for class. Exasperated, Chloe relinquishes her hold on the mic and folds her arms crossly.

Even as Beca leaves the gym with Stacie chattering besides her, she watches Chloe’s stubborn pout as she and the principal get into a muted, but still heated argument. The bell rings a few seconds later, a full seven minutes before it’s usually scheduled to ring.

* * *

Beca doesn’t see the redhead again until the end of the last period of the day, AP Calculus. On her way out, she sees Chloe push back into the classroom and discuss with the teacher about the work she missed in class. Not really 100% sure of what she’s doing, Beca pulls out her headphones and leans against a nearby pillar, waiting for Chloe to finish her talk. Finally, fucking finally, the redhead pivots towards the exit and only hesitates a little upon seeing Beca’s cool expression waiting for her outside.

Removing her headphones, Beca nods in greeting at her.

“Waiting for someone?” Chloe looks around jokingly, as they’re quite clearly the only two students left in this particular hallway.

“Want to get a drink or something, Madam President?” Beca smirks, using all the excessive bravado she can muster up to hide the fact that she’s pretty sure she’s about to get rejected.

Chloe gives her a calculating look before breaking out into a wary smile, “I thought you didn’t care for me.”

“I am known to be wrong on a few very rare occasions,” Beca admits, her pulse racing at the non-rejection. “Very rare.”

“Yeah, I could go for a latte,” Chloe nods, her smile more natural and warm now.

* * *

“So, what’d Principal Hair-ass say to you?” Beca jostles her foot impatiently against the stool as the barista makes their order.

Giving an amused, but half-disappointed look, Chloe answers, “Principal _Harris_ said that given my ‘inflammatory’ remarks made against the school administration, he had no choice but to pull me from the race.”

“What? Bullshit.”

“Yeah, well, what can I do about it?” Chloe shrugs, resigned to her fate. She gratefully accepts her order from the barista with a slight upturn of the corners of her mouth.

Beca takes her Frappuccino from the lady as well, and snorts, “Well, whatever man. Doesn’t matter who wins, at least you stood up for stuff you believed in.”

“Why, Beca Mitchell,” Chloe exclaims, surprised, “I do believe you’re edging on sappy!”

“Shut up,” Beca laughs. “No, dude, it took a lot of guts to stand up there and say that stuff. So hat off to you and everything.”

“Thanks,” Chloe says, more serious now.

“I would’ve voted for you, if that’s any consolation.”

Smirking, Chloe replies, “The very best consolation.”

“I have to head to my guitar lesson,” Beca realizes, her phone’s alarm warning her of the time. “But uhm, this was fun, we should uh, maybe, if you want to, I mean.” She fumbles to form a complete sentence.

Chloe cuts her off with a quick peck to the lips. “Definitely!”

Beca can’t control her mouth at all, and she just grins like an idiot. “Yeah, definitely.”

* * *

“And your student council president is…..Tom Kent!”

Beca sighs loudly in irritation, but it’s completely overshadowed by the cheers and raucous screams of those who voted for Tom. With a nudge, Chloe threads her fingers through Beca’s.

“The best we can hope for is that he gets sick on all the peanut butter jelly sandwiches people are going to force feed him,” Chloe whispers into her ear conspiratorially.

The vexation at the election outcome falls away completely, and Beca turns to Chloe with a devious smile, “Are you suggesting we encourage people to buy him more sandwiches, Madam President?”

“I said nothing, but if you go ahead with that plan, I cannot be held responsible for the consequences,” Chloe responds, biting her lip mischievously.

The only possible reaction is to kiss her, which Beca graciously takes upon herself to do. Later in the principal’s office with Chloe, as they’re being reprimanded for PDA, Beca realizes perhaps they took “good sportsmanship” a little far.

(But not-so-weirdly, she doesn’t care.)


End file.
